A rumble of muffled laughter sounded against the slubbed silk. But as Alex sat up, the humor faded from his face. The mention of seeking solace in a bottle had brought back thoughts of his last encounter with Octavia. She must think him the worse sort of cravenly cad, and with good reason.
"The Devil take it," he mumbled. "I wish Squid would return with his promised elixir." The throbbing at his temples had suddenly intensified with a vengeance. "Not that the brew will be able to assuage the real problem," he added softly. "You may be willing to overlook my egregious sins, but I am afraid that there are others who may not be quite so... forgiving."
His brother took a seat beside him. "Surely things are not quite so bleak. From what I have heard, er, most females find it hard to resist your charms."
"Ha!" Alex's mouth quirked in a rueful twist. "There is certainly one female who has no such trouble. Miss Hadley finds me odious, arrogant and overbearing. That is, of course, in addition to being a drunken scoundrel."
"Is that all?" Wright repressed a twitch of a grin. "In that case, figuring out how to overcome such paltry obstacles should be child's play." He paused to clear his throat. "Er, is there a particular reason you wish the young lady to hold you in greater esteem?"
"I wish to... ensure that she is not left to fend for herself when she arrives back in England. Her family is a malicious pack of curs who have already thrown her to the wolves once. And she will not have any references from her current employers as she has unmasked their ill-treatment of their ward." Despite his aching head, Alex stood up and began to pace the narrow confines of the cabin. "She and Emma were left to the mercies of the invading French army, you know. She took it upon herself to save the child, daring to attempt the journey from Moscow to St. Petersburg. If I hadn't come upon them..." A flash of humor stole across his features. "Actually, she probably pulled my irons out of the fire as often as I helped her."
"Miss Hadley sounds like quite a remarkable female," murmured William.
"That is putting it mildly. Why, she is the most intelligent, caring, resourceful and courageous person I have ever met—man or woman."
"Hmmm." The marquess regarded his brother's agitation with a gleam of speculation, though his expression remained impassive. "Just how do you intend to see that she does not have to fend for herself?"
"Why, er...." Alex felt his face turn rather warm as he stumbled for words. "I—I thought Olivia and Augusta might help me find a suitable position for her. One where she might be treated with the esteem she deserves."
"Ah." The marquess toyed with his cuff. "I am sure your sister-in-laws would be delighted to get involved. They are hopeless romantics—no doubt they will enjoy this tale far more than any of those published by Minerva Press."
"This has nothing to do with romance, William. Good Lord, I have no illusions about being some storybook hero," he muttered. Damnation, that was not true, he realized. He did wish to clasp the heroine in his arms at the end of the tale, but after the awful mull he had made of things, that seemed quite unlikely to happen, except in his dreams. "It has to do with friendship and loyalty and.... " His voice trailed off as he shoved his hands in his pockets and quickened the pace of his steps.
"And trust," he finally added, ducking just in time to keep from cracking his head on one of the beams. "The Devil take it! After what happened back there in St. Petersburg, I doubt she will ever speak to me again, much less trust me. Or allow me to help her. She is too proud to accept—"
"Alex, sit down before you make yourself seasick by spinning in such circles. Just watching you is having a deleterious effect on my own insides."
"Hell's teeth!" The oath came out in a whoosh of air as he threw himself down on the hard bunk. "I don't know how I am ever going to convince her that I am not a worthless wastrel."
"Well, it is a long voyage home, and there are three married gentlemen willing to offer whatever advice we can. Surely if we all put our heads together we can come devise some sort of strategy to soften her feelings." He gave a slight chuckle. "Although, speaking from long experience, I am not sure that any of us can claim to fully understand the working of the female mind."
* * *
"...three, and that makes four."
Octavia stepped back and surveyed the corded boxes, satisfied that the porters had not left one behind. They had precious few belonging as it were, but a number of necessities had been purchased, including some much needed new clothing, and she did not wish to embark on the voyage without them.
"Come along, Emma. Mr. Twillings has promised to escort us to our cabin before he bids us good bye." The young man from the embassy had proved enormously useful over the past week. Not only had he quickly settled any lingering objections the Renfrews might have had about relinquishing custody of Emma, but he had managed to arrange a comfortable cabin for her and the girl aboard a large merchant vessel attached to a naval convoy returning to London, much to the irritation of a number of important gentlemen who had also been awaiting passage home.
There was no doubt as to the reason for such preferential treatment, she admitted as she strolled up the gang plank. It was clear the Sheffield name inspired a good deal of awe among the diplomatic corps. Awe, however, was not exactly the sentiment she would use describe her own feelings about that august moniker.
Sheffield. Just repeating the syllables in her head caused a wave of anger to well up inside her.
Her brow furrowed. No, the emotion was more complex than mere anger or loathing. It was... disappointment. A disappointment as fierce as a Baltic Sea storm, the depth of its turmoil made greater by the fact that it so unexpected. She had thought that despite his outward show of sardonic detachment, Sheffield had come to care for them—or at least for Emma, if not herself.
Good Lord, she must have listened to the reading of far too many chapters of that cursed book to have succumbed to such sentimental fantasy. What a fool she had been to imagine a hardened rake would have any real feelings for an orphaned child and an aging governess! It was only his upbringing as a gentleman that had prevented him from abandoning them along the way. Mere duty, rather than anything else, that had dictated his actions. And as soon as they had reached relative safety, he had announced just how onerous that duty had been by promptly drowning himself in...
Mr. Twilling's discreet cough made Octavia realize she hadn't been paying the least attention to what he had been saying. "Forgive me," she sighed, forcing her eyes from the chunks of ice bobbing among the leaden waves. "I fear I was... letting my thoughts wander."
"That is most understandable, Miss Hadley. You have had a great deal to think about over the last little while. I was merely inquiring whether there is anything else you might need before the ship weighs anchor?"
"You have done more than enough for us, sir. I am well aware that without your help we would be spending a long, cold winter in St. Petersburg."
Twilling inclined a bow. "Well, then, I shall take my leave. Good bye, Miss Hadley." A quick wink was directed at the girl. "And Miss Emma as well. I wish you godspeed and good luck in London."
Ha, thought Octavia. She was going to need more than luck in navigating her way through the coming weeks. As she didn't know a soul in the city, she had no idea where she and Emma would stay while she sought consultation with the trustees of the girl's estate, or how long her funds would hold out....
Well, time enough to think of that during the voyage. She forced a smile. "Good bye, Mr. Twilling. And thank you again."
With another tip of his hat, the young man turned and hurried off, weaving his steps between the burly sailors carrying the last of the spruce spars and barrels of pine tar up from the docks.
"London," murmured Emma, her mittened hands coming to rest on the varnished railing. For a moment she, too, seemed engrossed in studying the flock of gulls hovering over the frigid waters before she ventured another word. "Do—do you think Nicholas and Alex might be there to greet us?"
Octavia bit her lip.
"I would not count on it, Emma," she answered, deciding it was best not to encourage such hopes.
"Oh." The girl stared straight ahead. "I thought they were our friends."
"Of course they are. But they will have a great many other obligations, for Mr. Sheffield's family is very important—"
"And we are not?"
How was she to answer that? wondered Octavia. She drew a deep breath. "It is not as simple as that," she began. "I, that is, they...." There was an awkward pause while she searched for some way to explain what she meant. "They must begin a new chapter in their lives."
"And we are not part of it?"
"No, we are not," she said bluntly. "Emma, dear Mrs. Radcliffe may use artistic license to create all manner of trials and tribulations for her characters, and then blithely pen a happy ending. It makes for entertaining fiction, but unfortunately real life does not often follow such a perfect plot."
Emma kept her gaze locked on the swirling currents, but the tilt of her profile did not quite hide the quivering of her lips. "I think I understand what you mean." She gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders. "Anyway, boys are nothing but a nuisance."
Amen to that, thought Octavia to herself as her arm slipped around the girl's waist. "That's right," she said with a forced laugh. "Nothing but a nuisance. We are much better off without them, aren't we?"
"Right."
Tactfully ignoring the small sniff that accompanied the girl's reply, Octavia leaned down to pick up the valise by her side. "Mr. Twilling was able to locate a copy of The Castle of Otranto. Perhaps you would like to go below and have a look at it. I believe you will like it, even if the author is a male."
"If you don't mind, I think I will just lie down for a bit," answered Emma in a small voice. "It has been an awfully busy day and I find I am not much in the mood for reading at the moment."
Chapter 16
The cries of the circling gulls mingled with the snap of the riggings and oaths of the stevedores as the elegant vehicle approached the bustling wharves. Alex shifted against the soft leather squabs of his brother's equipage, feeling his stomach take a decidedly seasick lurch at the prospect of the coming meeting.
Unlike the male members of the family, his sisters-in-law had not fooled in the least by his prevarications. His halting explanation of wishing to find a suitable position for Octavia had been met with raised brows and the withering scorn it deserved. He was naught but a craven coward, they had exclaimed in short order. Not for any lack of physical courage, but for being afraid to admit what was patently obvious to any observer with a grain of common sense.
He was in love with the lady. And, they added, he would be the biggest idiot between the Thames and the Volga if he didn't acknowledge it and do whatever it took to win her heart. Begging and groveling were among the first suggestions.
For some reason that eluded him, they seemed to think he had a chance of success.
In the face of such formidable forces, his defenses had quickly crumbled. But rather than engendering any sense of defeat, the admission of his feeling had been more liberating than he had ever imagined. Freed from the shackles of the past, he dared hope for the future.
Hope, however, had seemed a dim prospect when he considered the obstacles in his path. With a sigh, he had said as much.
From there, his family had sprung into action with dizzying efficiency. The earl had used his considerable influence with the government to learn on which vessel Octavia and Emma had set sail, while his brothers had pulled all manner of strings to help him deal with a number of important matters in Town. In the meantime, the ladies had passed the days preparing Wright House for additional guests, as well as spending considerable time behind closed doors making arrangements they refused to discuss with the gentlemen.
Frequent updates from the Admiralty on the progress of the ships and their naval escort kept them alerted as to when the convoy was expected to tie up at the Greenwich wharves. Even now, as Alex craned his neck to peer out of the paned window, he could see a billow of white canvas ghosting in with the current. Swallowing a gulp, he turned to the other occupant of the carriage and forced a show of nonchalance. "Well, Nicholas, it looks as though they will soon be here."
The boy's nose pressed up against the glass too, his nervous anticipation not nearly as well hidden. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "I can hardly wait to... find out what will happen to Emily and Valancourt."
Alex gave a low chuckle in spite of his own overwrought nerves. "I should have thought you would have finished that book long ago."
Nicholas squirmed in his seat, causing the corner of a much worn leather binding to peek out from the folds of his coat. "I—I did not think it right to go on without Emma," he replied in a hesitant voice. "Perhaps you think me—how do the English say it—less of a man for caring about the opinion of a mere girl, but..."
He reached over to ruffle the boy's hair. "On the contrary, lad. Loyalty to one's friends is one of the qualities of a true gentleman. And Emma has shown herself to be more than worthy of your esteem, regardless of her skirts and braids."
A sudden jolt of the wheels indicated that the horses had pulled to a halt. Sucking in a deep breath, his hand groped for the door latch. "I think it best if you wait here to greet Emma while I have a few words in private with Miss Hadley. There are, er, a number of things that the two of us need to discuss regarding... plans."
Nicholas regarded him with owlish intensity, then gave a solemn nod.
Offering a silent prayer to the heavens, Alex turned up the collar of his coat, stepped down to the muddy cobblestones and pushed his way through a bevy of swearing sailors trying to wrestle a load of salt beef off of a nearby wagon. It was some time before the heavy hull of the merchant ship was maneuvered into place alongside the barnacled pilings and the thick hawsers snugged around the iron stanchions. His pacing grew more impatient as the gangplanks seemed to take an age to be set in place. Finally, after a line of officers had descended from the quarterdeck, he spotted two females, half hidden by the tarred shrouds, their familiar profiles silhouetted against the scudding grey clouds.
They disappeared among the jostling of the other passengers seeking to disembark, then were visible again just as they stepped onto dry land. Alex hung back, waiting for them to move away from the milling crowd. Even at that distance, he could recognize the tilt of her chin and the determined set of her slender shoulders. He even imagined he could see the exact shade of her eyes, and how they were alight with...
In that instant Octavia turned toward him. She froze, her whole frame going rigid as an icicle. Then taking firm hold of Emma's hand, she continued on, her gaze locked on the small cluster of hansom cabs gathered near the end of the wharves.
Hell's teeth, he swore to himself. How was he ever going to melt the coldness he had glimpsed in her eyes?
There was no ice in Emma's reaction. Catching sight of Alex, she tore away from Octavia's grasp and ran at him with a shriek of delight. "Alex, Alex! I knew you would not forget us!"
He swung her up into his arms. "There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you, sweeting," he murmured, a fierce constriction in his chest making him realize just how true his words were. Good Lord, how he had missed those thin arms wound around his neck and that soft cheek pressed up against the hard line of his jaw.
The girl's companion made to go by, but he turned to block her way. "Octavia," he began, placing Emma back down on her feet. "Please wait—"
"What for?" she countered, falling back a step to elude the hand reaching out for hers. "You made it abundantly clear how quickly you wished to submerge the memory of your sojourn—and the company you were forced to endure—in Russia. Well, I, too, wish to forget that unfortunate interlude." Her jaw was set in the stubborn tilt he had come to recognize all too well. "Please move out of my way now. There is nothing more we need say to each other, Mr. Sheffield." There was a fraction of a pause. "Or is it really 'my lord'? It is hard to keep track of all your lie
s."
"I never lied to you, " he said quietly. "And actually I have a great deal I wish to say to you, if only you will listen for a moment."
Octavia's gaze seemed to waver for an instant before regaining its martial light. "Why should I? Indeed, a better question is why did you even bother to show up here? Now that you are back in London, I am sure you have more interesting things to occupy your thoughts than an aging governess and an orphaned girl." A slight quiver of her voice showed she was not quite as composed as she wished to appear. The realization seemed to make her scowl grow even blacker than before. "No doubt you are back to your usual revelries—drinking and... and gaming... and visiting your latest mistress."
Emma's eyes went very wide. "Alex has a mistress?"
"Of course I don't!" he said through gritted teeth. "Damnation, Octavia, please—"
"Don't swear. Have you forgotten there is a child present?" she scolded.
"How can I!" he exclaimed with mounting frustration, "They have rarely been out of our company, making it deucedly hard for me to tell you how much I—" His words cut off with a harried sigh. "Emma, you see that black and yellow carriage standing over there? Hurry along and climb inside it."
The girl pulled a face. "Why do adults always send us away just when the conversation is getting interesting?"
"NOW!"
"Oh, very well."
"There is someone inside who is anxious to see you," he added as she started to stalk off with deliberate slowness.
A radiant smile replaced the petulant pout and the girl broke into a exuberant dash. His own lips curved upward. "At least the children seem happy at the prospect of being reunited," he murmured, searching Octavia's face for the least glimmer of welcoming warmth.
She looked away, just enough to throw her features into shadow. "Well? Make it quick, Mr. Sheffield. I have a great many arrangements to make this afternoon."
Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 03] Page 21
